


Shining plain

by daisynorbury



Series: Why God Created Beer [2]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisynorbury/pseuds/daisynorbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Dead of Winter". Hathaway talks and Lewis draws some conclusions. Smooching ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shining plain

James knew it was ridiculous, but- four years on- he still thought of the site of his First Lie To Robbie as Fish Pie Bridge. It wasn’t much of a lie, but the peace he’d made with this bridge was nevertheless an uneasy one. The event he'd described was true enough, but the damage to his ecclesiastical career had been done well before the pie. Still, the part of his inner life that concerned Robert Lewis was a vast and varied landscape, and he reckoned there was little of it that *wasn’t* ridiculous. So when he found himself strolling across the selfsame bridge en route to the selfsame pub with the DI in question only three weeks after the arrest of Augustus Mortmaigne, he barely noticed his peculiar mental nickname. _Hello, FPB. Hush, you._

On the bridge, beer had been imminent, and that knowledge had been comforting. Particularly by contrast to a fairly high percentage of his thoughts over the previous twenty-two days. He had seen a counsellor. More than one, actually. And a priest. He’d rowed regularly, and smoked less. (Drank perhaps a bit more.) He’d pursued all (all right, most of) the Recommended Steps to bolster his mental and emotional health. He’d taken the leave he was due- despite what he'd told himself- and gone off walking alone in Wales for several days. It had been enlightening, but increased self-awareness is not necessarily a positive development. He’d searched his soul and found it no less troublesome than before. There were things in it he couldn't be silent about anymore, despite what it might cost him. Might cost both of them.

And now he and Lewis were sat by the river, sun setting behind them, two pints in, and Robbie- who could be downright philosophical about the job on his more pessimistic days- echoed himself from a month earlier: “Well. It’s for the courts to decide. We just nick ‘em.” 

James had thought about that a great deal. About his personal role in the (mis)carriage of justice. Their clear-up rate- his and Robbie’s- was second to none. They’d done a lot of good for a lot of people. He still wasn’t convinced, though, that this was how he should be spending his life. Especially now. Especially now that his overwhelming focus on Lewis threatened to cloud his professional judgment. He knew the rules, understood the reasons for them, and wasn't fool enough to believe they didn't apply to him. He swirled the dregs around the bottom of the glass, peering into it. He inhaled, ready to speak, and then thought better of it and downed the last of the beer instead. Lewis could tell that he’d come close to words, and James knew that Robbie would only wait so long before prodding him to speak his mind.

“What?”

_Yep._ “I think… there’s another reason God created beer.”

Robbie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. James had to admit that innuendo wasn’t his usual style of banter.

Robbie blinked at him. “What, so Englishmen could get a leg over?”  
“Not quite what I meant, but same idea. I’d have said it ‘lowers inhibitions’.”  
Robbie stared at him for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Can’t argue with that.”  
James turned and squinted at the lowering sun, then turned back to Lewis. “Same again?”  
Lewis seemed to consider that seriously as he gazed at James a bit longer than usual. “Nah, I should get back. New pet owner, me. Monty’ll think I’ve been shipwrecked.”  
He nodded and they both stood, shrugging into their jackets and patting their pockets. James’ car was parked the other side of the bridge, and so the pie crossed his mind once more that day.

Halfway across, Robbie realized that James was no longer beside him. He stopped and turned, and found Hathaway leaning over the railing, elbows propped upon it, peering into the river. A lit cigarette was stuck between two of his fingers. It was not quite dusk. It came to him that this was not a momentary pause in their journey to the car. James had been odd all evening. Robbie didn’t have much confidence in his ability to get him to talk, but that wouldn’t stop him extending the invitation. He did it silently, though. He stood beside James on the bridge, hands resting on the railing, and waited.

“Sir.”

“Hathaway?”

“At Crevecoeur, you said…”

_Lots of things, some of which I may yet regret._ “At Crevecoeur, I said…?”

“At Crevecoeur you said I could talk to you. So. I… want to try that.”

“Right then.”

“There's one thing about that business that I'm determined to spin positively. I told Scarlett... things. Things I wish I hadn’t, in hindsight, since later on I learned that her contribution to the evening’s conversation had been a tissue of lies. But at the time, she did a good job of convincing me she was interested in what I had to say. What I thought. What I felt." He paused. “Which meant that I said things that I probably hadn't said aloud to anyone before." Robbie bit his tongue about Scarlett Mortmaigne, and James could see it. "No, not about the case; things about myself. Things I needed to talk about but never had."

"She manipulated you, James."

"Of course she did, and I'm not excusing that. My point is that the self-reflection I did as a result has been... necessary." Lewis frowned. James ignored it. "So here's... my... It'll be easier if I get it all out at once." He sighed, and started again. "I’ve been doing this too long. I thought I could live with it. I mean I could before, but it gets harder every day, and then something happens to remind me that neither of us is getting any younger and-” He stopped, staring at the cigarette in his fingers. He slowly stubbed it out on the railing as he straightened up. “I’ve been living this way long enough to know that time won’t… I won’t be getting any saner about it. I thought for a long time that just going on indefinitely was the best choice because- while it’s less than I want- it’s better than nothing. I couldn’t… choose nothing. I tried to, in my head. I thought a clean break would probably hurt more at first, but with a complete change of scenery I wouldn’t be confronted by reminders all the time so…” He regarded the extinguished cigarette, then secreted it in his trouser pocket. “I’d already made the decision: I would say goodbye, and go. I’d even chosen a specific date. I started preparing, but after three days of that I was distraught. So much so that I’d become…” He curled over again, returning his elbows to the railing, and frowned down at the water beneath them. “I couldn’t function. So I chucked the leaving idea. Realized I had to figure something else out.”

James felt Lewis lay a hand on his back. It was clear that Robbie was waiting for some sign that it was his turn to speak. When James only dropped his head lower Lewis leaned over slightly and said, “You don’t have to stay in a job that tears you up this way. God, James, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you to stay, before. I thought you brought up resigning because you felt you had to, not because you wanted to. I only meant that you’re a good detective and I like working with you, but if you’re not happy, don’t stay on my account. There are a million jobs out there and you could do any one of ‘em. Maybe not priest, but don’t give up on finding what you want just because… I don’t even know why.”

James grinned despite himself but it faded almost instantly. He breathed in and out twice before straightening up. Lewis hadn’t removed his hand. “I don’t want to resign. I wasn’t talking about the job.”

Lewis nodded slowly, taking in this new information. “Weren’t you now.” 

Lewis was peering at him, clearly waiting for an explanation, but James couldn’t meet his gaze. He watched the river slip past, brown and quiet, away and away forever. He was about to say goodbye. It was the worst thing he could remember ever feeling. He suspected that when he looked back on this moment in a year or twenty it would be only second-worst. Maybe third. His throat constricted. All his practice came to nothing when faced with Robbie’s unfailing, awful kindness. He breathed deeply. Forced himself to relax. Breathed again. “I’m sorry. I should have said something long ago. Stopped this thing in its tracks. But I kept thinking… I’d get past it.” He did not turn to see Lewis’s expression, but could hear him thinking that over. 

“James… I don’t think I can figure out how to help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

James nodded. “Mm. Which is preferable to you not knowing how to help me when you _do_ know what the problem is.” He felt Lewis’s thumb on his back. It slid back and forth, maybe an inch. 

“Well, maybe I can’t, but someone can, and we’ll find them.”

James shook his head slowly. “No. For this particular problem, it has to be you. I’ve no doubt someone else could help, but... they’d be solving a different problem.”

Lewis shifted a bit and his hand crept nearer James’ spine. When he spoke it was so low that James had to listen carefully to hear him. “Listen. Whatever it is you’re trying to tell me, it’s…” Lewis puffed out a breath. It sounded like he was edging toward exasperation. “It’s all right, okay? Whatever it is you’re afraid of… I’m on your side and this won’t change that. And maybe I already know, eh? Maybe I sussed it myself and it’s just another part of who you are and we’re still friends and it’s fine.”

James did look at him then, eyes widening in surprise and understanding. _Of course he thought… Of course. Just another part. Oh, Robbie._ “I’m not coming out to you, Sir. I mean I suppose I am in a way, but being bi isn’t a problem. That’s... incidental.”

Lewis stared at him for a moment and then just nodded. “Okay.” But Robbie’s eyes had caught him, and James couldn’t look away. He was pinned under that assessing, thoughtful, worried gaze. He wondered what was showing on his own face as Lewis studied him. They stood that way for eight seconds that felt like eight hundred. The light was failing and his sense of time was skewing. _How the hell does one knowingly murder hope? Hope suicide. Is that even possible? Prepping to leave felt like that. Giving up on you forever without even… I honestly wanted to die._ He tried to speak. He really did. Lewis was very clearly Thinking. Digesting. And the longer James remained silent the more wretched he felt, and the more impossible speaking seemed. His mind was an empty concert hall, echoing, echoing _‘I love you, goodbye, I love you, goodbye, I love you I love you I love I love I love love love love goodbyebyebyebyebyebyeby-”_

“Have you told me all of it now? Can I respond?”

“Oh.” James swallowed around the ache in his throat. “Yes. I mean no, not all of it. But you already responded.”

Then it seemed to James that Lewis did not move toward him, but nonetheless managed to get closer. Robbie said, “You’re right: We’re not getting any younger.” James noticed that the hand on his lower back had conformed to the dip in his spine. “You tried to say goodbye and it hurt so much that you couldn’t function. And for this particular problem, it has to be me.” Lewis’ gaze was unwavering. “And you’re incidentally bi. And incidentally… so am I. Maybe. Probably? I'm not sure. But anyway I’m glad you chucked the leaving idea. I hope we can figure something else out.”

James became suddenly and incongruously aware of the burbly sound of the river, and birds, and voices in the distance. His heart was pounding. _What?_ “I…” His jaw worked but nothing came out.

“James, I’ve been a detective since you were a little boy. So I’m sorry, if I’ve got this wrong. I really am.” And then the arm at his waist drew him in close against Robbie’s body, and Lewis tucked his face into the space between James’ chin and shoulder. And kissed his throat.

James heard a rhythmic thumping as a jogger in earbuds and gray spandex loped along the bridge toward them.  
Robbie kissed his jaw.  
James thought the jogger smiled at them as he passed, but it was getting too dark to be sure.  
Robbie kissed his cheek.  
The jogger disappeared into the trees.  
Lewis retreated less than three inches, and when he spoke again James could feel his warm, whispered breath on his skin. “Now. What was it you wanted to say to me, lad?”

James gaped. He was acutely aware of not knowing what to do with his hands. This wasn’t what he’d rehearsed. He murmured “I can’t believe…”

Robbie’s left hand pressed a bit more firmly into James’ back. The right brushed its way up his front, slid over his collarbone and around behind his neck. It pulled. Just gently. Down toward Robbie’s soft smile. James followed. “You can’t believe? Wouldn’t that contraindicate ambitions to the priesthoo- “, but Lewis had apparently decided that kissing him was more important than finishing the joke. And it was hungry, and careful, electric and tender, and clearly not goodbye. And it was the best thing James could remember ever feeling.

His hands- light with newfound freedom as he forgot to fret about them- discovered themselves quite capable of participating without his help, and all the anticipated planes and contours of Robbie Lewis’s body came under their energetic scrutiny, or would have done had it not been for all this damn clothi- “Robbie!,” he gasped, pulling away only far enough to get words out. “Can we go back to mine? I know it’s daft, only I never thought… I want to take you home before you come to your senses.”

“Aye, lad. Though I doubt I can come without them.”

“You-” James blinked, startled. “...doubt... Did you just make a sex joke?”

“Depends. Did you just invite me back to yours after one kiss?”

James’ head was spinning. “I-... Did you just say _*Yes*?_ ”

Robbie attacked his mouth again, hips crowding up into him, pressing him against the railing. He said into James’ open lips, “Why are we still on this bridge?”

**Author's Note:**

> I just discovered that if you do a google image search for the phrase "shining plain" you get several photos of shiny, narrow neckties. *spontaneous braingasm*


End file.
